Nonsense 2
by Alone in the blight
Summary: Yup.


**Author's Note: **I just wanted to write something, apologies for both the length and the quality.

The emerald skies are silent in the Huntsman's copse. The weather hardly shifts around here; the same gloom and doom for as far as you remember. It was a welcoming change to see those foreign moths calling this dreadful heap a home. They have scattered themselves all over drangliec. The colourful moths would occasionally sprinkle their blight only to be ignored by the wandering hollows. Blast these fools, so mindless. Hardly worth your effort.

It has been a while since your armour was soaked in delicious red. Yes, the world around you is slowly dying. Not a single undead to split open, to mire in its accursed wretchedness. Nahr Alma is displeased with you, you can tell. Why would anyone come here in the first place? To seek blood? They will find nothing but a useless gravestone. The oh so righteous sentinels has purged everyone associated with your god by the time you arrived here. You simply follow the old ways amongst these ruins mostly undisturbed by anyone.

There is another path, one that would lead the foolhardy to their demise, You tend to stay away from the skeletal trio. The undead curse has swallowed them whole, their guilt manifested itself tearing off their skin and flesh. They fashion themselves as 'Lords' over a domain of undead prisoners , same as their masters.

Perhaps it was time to satisfy your murderous urges, your pulled out a sacred cracked red eye orb. Oh, you precious little thing...how fragile you are..a piece of a forgotten past. There are other worlds out there filled with rivers of glorious blood. It is yours, it is only yours...You crushed the orb, drawing your mace in pure anticipation. This is it. You will taste blood, gorge yourself in its putrid nature.

Alas, nothing happened.

You were fumed with rage. How foolish of you! To waste a sacred treasure in a moment of weakness? Yo-

All is forgiven, You saw her. A delicious morsel, a Drangliec mage wearing worn out black robe without a mask. Each step of hers was in the dark but she couldn't fool the ravenous hollows. They followed their mindless instinct only to be struck down by pitiful soul arrows. Her staff was a glorified stick, Is that a mere dagger? What a lost cause!

This little lamb is lost, no matter, she is ripe for the slaughter. You watch her from afar as she was clearly struggling with the simplest of hollows slowly closing in for the kill. You did lose her for a second when she took refuge in a ruined hut after running from...someone. It must have been those depraved torturers with their whips and catchpoles. They play with their victims keeping them alive for as long as possible.

You took a graceful leap from the edge of the cliff to the roof of the hut, why give her a chance to retaliate? You heard a burst of spells below you then a slash. The little lamb was crawling backwards to a duo of skeletons chained to the wall. Blood, tears and sweat trickled in unison as she was clutching to her wounds _**"P-please, D-don't..."**_

Was she honestly expecting any form of sympathy from-

Oh

_**Oh**_

A red phantom with an aura of a hundred deaths, a scythe so wicked...so unnatural. What is that thing? Why do you feel so vulnerable next to him? No NO NO! He WONT steal her from you. You longed for the sweet scent of blood. No,no...his rancid blood is ten folds better than some cowardly one. You plunged to what could be your doom towards the red specter underestimating his quick reflexes. He easily blocked your mace before flinging you to the wall like a small doll. Your shield was up a second later, it saved your neck from one swift slice.

The red menace couldn't fully swing his scythe indoors, you took this advantage with your barrage of swings. True, It is an ordinary mace but you have lost count on how many heads it has bashed to a glorious red paste. Your foe was expecting most of your blows, He didn't expect this kick which has disturbed his balance long enough for you to land a strike.

It should have crushed his ribs but your mace bounced off his armour. Your eyes widened as the phantom went on the offensive, such immense force has made you drop your shield accompanied with several broken fingers. You winced in pure pain, gritting on your teeth. Is this a worthy adversary? Was it time for your black blood to be spilled?

Another clash, You stared into the dark hood of his. There was nothing human under his hood. A abhorrent mish-mash of forbidden knowledge instilled in dead flesh with a single purpose. He returned the favor and kicked you to ground, You were a nuisance, a hurdle in his path, He readied the scythe for one single swing and..

_He was blown away by scraping pillars made from dark thoughts. _

It was a miracle to be able to bring the dregs of humanity with your set of broken fingers. You rarely use your chime; delving into the darkest pits of the abyss is something you loathe. Navlaan be praised, his peculiar works have saved you for your demise. His mighty armour is now blemished with the gnawing dark, one of the pillar has consumed most of his right arm and yet he remained unflinched. He went for his equally menacing sword instead of his heavy scythe. The lethal dance continued its course, The abomination didn't give you a single second to cast another hex. Your strength was slowly waning with each passing second.

Eventually, you succumbed to the ground after a precise slash to your abdomen. The green skies are obscured by death manifest. You couldn't help but to smile. Your death will please Nahr Alma. More blood to soak the ground...

_**Except it wasn't your time just yet...**_

An innocent blight, A mist of disease and rot upon the phantom. The Moth , rest on the highest branch of a dead tree next to you, flickers its wings revitalizing your will to survive. You mustered what was left of your strength to stand up. Another cast, then another...the already befuddled foe was torn apart. Naught but a charred torso was remained. With one last swing, you ended his unholy existence in this world. Perhaps he will return whence he came from unscathed, perhaps not. You slayed him, rightfully so.

You dragged yourself back to that hut dragging your mace with you. Curses, The little lamb was gone. Yes, This was to be expected. However, She had left a message on the floor. The ethereal orange soapstone...oh how many years have you not seen such a message?

_' I thank you from the deepest corners in my heart for fending me from Aldia's spawn. My truest apologies for not partaking in the fray, kind traveler, I was overwhelmed by cowardice and self preservation. Should you overcome the ghastly Forlon,You will find some healing wares in this pot to your right alongside a collection of souls. I will be forever in your debt. May our paths cross again, be it in this life or the next...'_

Her words were indeed true, without her aid, you would have bled out in a matter of hours. You didn't know what to make out of this situation. Misdirected compassion for a bloodthirsty murder? What an ironic statement.

**There you have it, another blurp of mine. See you in +2 years.**


End file.
